


Holy Commune

by NevaRYadL



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: (how the fuck isn't that a tag), Bisexual Reynauld, Blink and miss mentioned LGBT+phobia, Build up, First time with a man, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fondling, Hand Jobs, Hickies, Hotdogging, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Rutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NevaRYadL/pseuds/NevaRYadL
Summary: Reynauld really likes Dismas. Dismas really likes Reynauld. Dismas decides to make the first move when Reynauld won't.
Relationships: Dismas/Reynauld (Darkest Dungeon)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	Holy Commune

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: The Crusader/The Highwayman, mlm fluff and smut, build up to the smut, blink and miss mention of LGBT+phobia from religious figures, hickies, fondlying, oral sex, hand jobs, hotdogging/rutting
> 
> This has been in my WIP folder forever, good lord

He hated the tavern.

He hated everything about it. The owner was a nice enough man, he supposed, but everything else? Hate, hate, hate.

The walls were put up by hand, improperly at that. Sure, when the town's residents were in there and the fire was going, you would never know. But the second it was only a handful of people or the fire was not roaring or the winds picked up and you would feel the bite of the bitter cold dig deep into your skin. Normally it was impolite to wear your coats and hats and gloves into buildings, but the tavern owner knew how badly his walls were done and just smiled and nodded at any bundled up person coming through. Why not fix the walls?

Why not fix the tables? He hated them. Solid as they were, they rattled far too hard if they were bumped too hard and often sent the things placed on top to the ground, which usually meant a lot of alcohol which meant a lot of sticky mess on the floor and the smell of that foul liquid hanging heavy in the air like rain might. That also usually meant cards and dice and various other things dropping to the floor and sticking there as well, making the whole place feel unclean from not only what it did... but generally how unclean it was.

The people that went there? He hated most of them. There to drink alcohol until their minds went listless, to gamble what little money that towns folks had between themselves and what the Heir poured into it trying to breathe life into their town again, to go to the back rooms and indulge in... he dare not even speak it. There was a perfectly good abbey to prey, to meditate, to punish yourself to seek forgiveness in the eyes of god. And yet they threw away their money for the easy way, the pleasurable way. While he could not fault his fellow adventurers for being stressed to the point that whatever easiest might have literally made or broke them... no one said he could not judge them.

And still... he was there.

Wearing his full armor because the thought of taking it off made his skin crawl, he sat in a chair by the door and sullenly watched his fellow adventurers as they drank, gamble and slipped into the brothel rooms for the night. As much as he hated this place and most everything about it... it was where most everyone was most nights. It was either loneliness or this and... he dreaded the thought of being alone after one too many pitch black adventures in the ruins.

Sure, there were others that might be at his preferred spot of the abbey. The leper and the vestal often stayed at the abbey but... everyone else went to the tavern. Not to mention, the vestal had gone on a trek into the ruins and something down there had resulted in her being brought up, clutched firmly in the arms of that jangling fool, as she screamed about blood and ghosts and pale faces in the dark. She was currently in the sanitorium until further notice and the leper was... he was a good man but poor company on his own.

So, here Reynauld was, trying to soak up some company by proxy and hating every second of it.

He watched the beauty, blonde and dark red lips but a vile and disgusting grave robber, drunkenly sway by him as she clutched drunkenly at goblet with more ale. She needed to lay down but... he would bite his tongue. The last they spoke it had ended in a fight about her profession, several scathing words, and the heir himself coming to break it up. He watched the man marked with a deep and upsetting 'A' scar on his head remain in his own corner and sullenly drink from a bottle. He watched the fool pluck away at his instrument in time with an extremely lewd joke he was telling that was sending anyone listening (except Reynauld of course who just sneered harder and harder behind his helm) into screaming and crying laughter. He watched the barbarian come from the backrooms, swatting the behind of the brothel worker she had just indulged in and winking when they gasped and then giggled in surprise.

Disgusting.

He wondered why he did not leave.

He denied how he looked at Dismas.

The highwayman was also drinking in the corner, looking at the gambling tables like he was debating whether or not to join. But he would also hem and haw about it, taking his time to sip down a bottle of beer, before sighing and then gathering up his coat and heading out the door. He was not a sociable man, as Reynauld had learned from his few times sitting in the tavern and wallowing in how much he hated it. He drank by himself, debated gambling, decided against it and then would just get up and leave and head to the barracks where they all rested their tired heads. But even then, Reynauld could tell that he was not a sociable man by just how long they had been fighting side by side in the ruins, usually remaining fairly quiet at the campfires and during battle.

He... he liked Dismas. Perhaps more than the bitter and sour and decrepit priests, fathers and holy men and women would like, but those rotted relics of days gone by were slowly and surely being replaced by those of gentler dispositions to men like Reynauld. Even the father of the town's abbey did not care if a warped mind came to the abbey, babbling for the comfort of the arms of a lover by the same gender, just nodding and praying quietly over them as he worked to bring them back from insanity. So... he liked Dismas.

Perhaps that was why he felt sour and sharp bile building at the back of his throat at the sight before him.

The tavern was doing well, people were drinking and gambling in spades. But it seemed that few were taking advantage of the 'other' service provided by the tavern. Bored brothel workers were out and looking for potential paying partners for the night, dressed in revealing clothing, perfumed sweetly sick, and purring out promises of pleasant nights into the ears of flushed by still coherent patrons. One such worker was currently sitting next to where Dismas usually drank alone, tapping along and painted nails against the wood near his bottle, that he kept shuffling away from and closer to his body, and purring out promises of pleasure unlike any other. Dismas did not seem thrilled, nor taking the pitch, giving her looks that suggested he was trying to be polite but also trying to gently drop the hint that he was not interested in the slightest. And--

He knew his teeth were on edge because he liked Dismas. But, the devoted and pious but ultimately sociable cowardly man that he was, he did not say anything to him. And the poor woman was just trying to do her job and he could not hate her for that. And the irrational jealousy was just his infatuation with the man and nothing more. But also not something readily remedied.

"No thanks," Dismas gruffed out, finally.

He left half a bottle of beer on the table, putting a coin on the table for a server to fetch, before getting up to leave. And to be quite frank, if Dismas was not going to be in the tavern, then neither was he. So he stood. But... there was something about a man in full armor abruptly standing up, especially a man of his height and size. His standing caused his armor to make a sound, and as he stood to full height, the plague doctor was walking past and apparently had no idea he had been sitting there. His standing startled her enough to cause her to shriek briefly, causing all eyes to suddenly snap to him. There was an almost comical taste to the air as everyone looked at him and he could almost hear the unspoken question in the air.

'What was the pious and noble crusader doing here?'

Even Dismas, who had looked so eager to leave the building, had paused to hitch an eyebrow at him. Past the scarf that usually covered his face, he could not read much, but Dismas' surprise was true enough.

Gauntleted fingers digging into his palms, he swept his head side to side to look at everyone through the slit of his visor.

"Go back to your depraved activities."

Like that, the surprise was gone and the tavern was back to normal. Of course the crusader would scoff at them, his being there was hardly amiss at all and truth be told, they were all just looking for a good time and eager for any excuse to stop paying Reynauld any attention. All... except Dismas, who was still standing there and staring with a rather befuddled look about his brow at him. He stood there long enough for the brothel worker to try her sales pitch again, pressing his arm against her lush front side and leaning in close enough to almost brush her painted lips against his ear. 

With a grunt, Reynauld turned heel and left with stomping strides. The expended energy of slamming his feet into the ground was almost cathartic, and the noise of his heavy metal boots slamming into the ground drowned out the tavern as he got further and further away from it. It also disguised the sound of the person following him, until the hairs on the back of his neck rose and a developed skill from hunting through the darkness for the Heir's treasures made him suddenly turn around to see--

"Dismas," Reynauld said, surprised to see the man standing there in the dark. The dark of his coat faded the edges into the darkness of the night and for a moment, he looked otherworldly.

"Reynauld," Dismas said back. Reynauld always wondered how he managed to cut down on how muffled his voice was with the scarf around his face, always speaking so clearly. That slight accent to his voice ever there in the clearly enunciated words.

"How... how can I help you?" Reynauld asked. He was headed to the barracks, he supposed that Dismas could have been simply following after him in the same direction.

"... Stormed off pretty quick in there..."

"Yes well... truly only three of us go to the abbey, and as pleasant as the brother, sisters and father are... I do not shed blood with them... the people that I do, often go to the tavern," Reynauld explained. No use lying. Dismas was far too clever for that. "The company of god is a good company to keep, buuuttt it is hard to resist the company of people more tangible. Still can't stand the tavern though."

Dismas merely nodded, dark eyes feeling... lurid and dream like for some reason in the dark. Not like they were trying to pierce and cut like the man's knife through undead flesh, but more like, he was trying to look soft. Probably all inside Reynauld's infatuated mind, really. Everything about Dismas was soft and handsome in his mind, from his handsome crooked nose to his cunning eyes to his brow.

"Alright. Come on, holy man, let's get some sleep," Dismas said quietly, walking to stand by Reynauld's side and then walking with him to the barracks.

* * *

More time, and more time in the ruins.

They had just gotten back from a very close call. The hound master was shaking violently as the Heir directed him to the tavern, putting a purse in his hands to get him blind drunk. He had come so close to losing his mind in that awful place. The fool had to be brought back, bound in the bandages that they had not used, screaming about old gods and reeking blood pooling in vast oceans. The Heir sent him to the sanitorium right away, pressing more coins into the right hands as the fool's wailing disappeared into the wretched night. The vestal actually made it off pretty well, having saved them from their last two fights had emboldened her and kept her mind clear, though she still said she would make a brief visit to the abbey before heading to bed.

"And you crusader, how did you fair?" The Heir asked.

"I... I would appreciate time in the abbey," He admitted. The horrors they had seen, the fool's wailing and arrows assailing his armor and finally a wretched creature screaming doomsday prophecies had... stressed him quite a bit. Holding his own in the fights had kept him afloat but... he felt like an overworked muscle.

The Heir merely nodded, taking a purse from his being and pressing it into his hands. Coin to the give to the abbey for housing, food and general upkeep. He nodded, wished the Heir a good night, before walking in the dark. On his way to the abbey, he passed the tavern. Impulse made him turn to pause and look into the window, at the cheery crowd of people there for casual drinks, gambling, pleasure and company. And there at his usual table, Dismas sat nursing a bottle of beer. 

Reynauld would have left it at that, just happy to see his face, only for Dismas to look up at the right time and catch him staring in the window. He quickly put his head down and started quickly walking towards the abbey. But as tired and overworked and just... used and rung out as he was, Dismas still had plenty of time to leave his table and the tavern and quickly run after him.

"Holy-man, you're back," Dismas said, quickly hurrying up to meet his pace to walk side by side with him.

"Yes."

"... How'd it go?"

"As well as any other venture into that unholy and unclean place."

"Ah."

Dismas walked with him right up until he made it to the abbey. Ever vigilant, a sister with a long candle was waiting for him, waiting patiently for him to come closer to her for her to lead him inside. First a bath to cleanse his skin and sooth the very frayed edges of his soul, and then in the morning he would prostrate himself before god and pray until his soul found some peace. At the doorstep, Dismas stopped him, the sister stepping inside to give them a moment. Reynauld turned to glance at the highwayman, gloved fingers pressed against his bicep through the metal.

"Glad you made it back, holy-man."

"My... thanks, Dismas."

"I'm always glad when you come back," Dismas said, rather cryptically.

"As I am with you... goodnight, Dismas."

"Night, holy-man."

And with that, the crusader was admitted to the abbey for the week.

* * *

"I've recently wanted to get into religion," Dismas said casually as they walked.

Another run through the dungeons. The team had rather, readily breezed through it with minimum effort and stress. The fool had sang his merry songs as they carried bulging bags back to the Heir and the Plague Doctor had told them a rather funny tail involving a pie, a dog and a policeman, and the Heir had praised them plenty as he had counted out the loot. He had plans to funnel some funds into the tavern and the abby with their run, so everyone left for an evening off feeling quite buzzed with joy. Reynauld especially so, when Dismas asked if they could take a walk around the edge of town.

The comment had surprised him, as they had been walking in comfortable silence for a time now, until the sun had set and it started growing dark rather quickly.

"Oh?" Reynauld said excitedly. Finally! Someone else to enjoy the embrace of god and to see the Flame. "I can get you acquainted with the church, the Father--"

"Not that," Dismas hummed.

"Oh," Reynauld said, feeling his mood deflate somewhat. "Well, then... What do you wish to pray too?"

"You."

"Me?"

They paused outside the barracks. They were alone and it was dark, so no one would see or hear them unless they shouted. Dismas took hold of his shoulder and gently pushed him towards the wall, pressing his back against it and making his breath catch in his throat before caging him in by pressing close. Close enough for Reynauld to see those dark eyes and for Reynauld to catch the smell of gun oil, leather and the sweet ale on his breath.

"I wanna get down on my knees and worship _you_ , holy-man," Dismas said quietly, voice low and rumble, tumbling out of his lips with ease.

And the term should not have been filthy, it was normal to talk about prostrating yourself before the lord and pray to him. But the way that Dismas said it, voice of scotch and gravel, and what he actually meant by it, that had the back of Reynauld's neck heating up. Underneath his helmet, his face turned red hot and his lower stomach fluttered with arousal.

"Y-you're teasing me--"

"Nah. Want me to prove it?" Dismas asked, shrugging casually before jerking his head off to the side. "Not here, of course. Never really cared for skeevy fucks outside in the dark. I have plans on doing this proper, holy-man. Soft bed and everything."

And… and he liked Dismas. He was infatuated with the man that had faced countless horrors at his side, that he had taken blows for,and had shot enemies close to killing him and… he was…

“L-lead the way.”

* * *

The Heir's large and lavish home was still mostly unused. He used a few rooms, and as he poured money into the town and expanded it, he hired a few more workers to help use a few more. But mostly the house was unused. That meant that, apparently at one point, that Dismas could slip into a wing that was mostly unused and set up the little room. As Reynauld stood awkwardly by the door, Dismas lit a few dozen candles and lit up the room. The walls were sturdy enough that it did not need a fireplace. The bed certainly looked large, plush and piled thickly with blankets and pillows at one end. As the last candle was lit, Dismas shook the match to snuff it before turning back to him, putting out his arms.

"Well?"

He nodded quietly, eyes snapping to Dismas as he undid his face scarf again and let it hang around his neck. Reynauld had seen Dismas' face before, it was not like he purposefully hid it after all, but he still drank in the sight of the man's lean features and the rugged dusting of facial hair. The man's mouth was soft set as he came over to put his hands on Reynauld's chest piece, looking at him expectantly. Right... he could not wear his armor for this. The thing that had pretty much become second skin since he set out first to fight for the church and even more so after he had become full to bursting from guilt for killing for it.

He started undoing his armor and setting it aside. Dismas stepped away, carelessly undoing his own clothing and letting it fall to the ground without a thought. He was easily undressed, making it all the way down to his trousers and baring his chest to Reynauld's eyes. Lean muscles, scars and hair, so exceptionally handsome and wonderful to look at. It struck Reynauld that he could _touch_ that when he was undressed as well. It gave him a little bravery to finish undoing the outer plates and then taking his helmet off and setting it aside.

"Well there you are, holy-man," Dismas said, stepping back into his personal space.

"I have... taken my helmet off before," Reynauld muttered, feeling his face heat up from Dismas' appreciative eye.

"Not enough for me to ever get a good look," Dismas hummed, reaching up and lifting his chin, thumb rubbing at the bushiness at his chin. He kept his beard short for the purposes of his helmet, but it had become rather untamed and would need a good trimming soon. Probably unbecoming of a 'holy-man' but... Dismas seemed to like it. "My. If they had more men like you in churches... might have gone more."

"Dismas please," Reynauld quickly said. "Not that, not here."

"Apologies holy-man," Dismas said. "Kiss and make up?"

"I... yes."

Dismas leaned forward and kissed him. Thin and slightly dry lips pressing against his softly and sweetly, one hand cupping the back of Reynauld's neck and the other resting delicately on his chest. Tenderly _holding_ him there as he hesitantly kissed back, slowly gaining confidence as Dismas just kept sweetly kissing him, melting him, making him ache for the softness more and more. Until he was leaning into Dismas to chase more, ask for more, and Dismas happily gave it, moaning softly against his mouth as he intensified the kiss. Still soft and sweet, but the growing level of lust that simmered in both their bellies. And Reynauld wanted to kiss like that until he melted to the floor.

But Dismas broke it, pulling back to pant scant centimeters from his mouth.

"Got some soft lips, holy man," Dismas managed between pants.

"You're a good kisser," Reynauld panted back.

"High praise. Speakin' of praise... mind taking off your under armour? Wanna praise the man underneath of it and I feely mighty overdressed as is."

Right. Dismas pulled away to pull his trousers and underthings off without fanfare, going and getting comfortable in the plush bed that beckoned now more than ever. Reynauld allowed a moment to just savor the sight of Dismas, all lean muscle, dark wiry hairs, scars and hard lines cradled by the blankets and pillow. The man's cock, half filled with blood and the lovely color of those thin lips, taking into a knife and gun calloused as the man lazily stroked himself to the sight of Reynauld undressing. Made Reynauld flush again as he took to undoing his under armour and setting it aside properly, before peeling the clothing underneath that off and then stepping out of his breechcloth, letting his own half hard cock free and shuddering when the cooler air hit it. He knew how to chase that coolness away, shuffling into bed with Dismas.

"Damn but you are a sight," Dismas groaned happily, giving him a few strokes before taking his hand away to welcome the press of Reynauld's body against his own, eagerly accepting a kiss and moaning as Reynauld took the initiative and kissed him.

They kissed heatedly for a moment, enjoying the press of their bare bodies against one another, the heat that they radiated and that soaked into one another. When Reynauld hesitantly lowered more of his weight onto Dismas, their cocks brushed against one another and Reynauld shuddered briefly. Dismas moaned, deep and rumbly, against his mouth, parting from him to take in low and rough heated breaths.

“So…”

“Um…”

“How shall I pray to thee, holy-man?” Dismas rumbled, leaning into mouth along Reynauld’s neck, one hand moving to settle on his shoulder and the other trailing along his back, toying with the lines of his muscles and the scars that he found there. Clever and agile fingers rubbed against his lower back before cheekily grabbing a handful of ass and squeezing. “Hmm? How shall I devote myself to you?”

“Dismas…”

Dismas chuckled, nipping the skin gently and playfully.

“But serious, Rey, what do you want to do?”

The informal tone (and was that a pet name?) warmed Reynauld’s belly and made his heart squeeze. That his infatuation was returned warmed his very soul and brought him such divine and gentle joy. But that was later. Now Dismas was sucking little heated marks into his neck and groping along his ass and back needily, rocking up to rut against him and take his breath away.

“I… don’t know I… can’t think,” Reynauld panted.

“Hmm…”

Dismas encouraged them to switch positions, pressing Reynauld into the bed when he reflectively started to rise. He craned his neck up to watch Dismas press a kiss to his collar bone, then lower down to between his pectorals, then sweeping to the side to kiss a nipple, making him shudder before those clever and thin lips parted and a hot mouth descended on it. He groaned deeply as Dismas sucked and licked on it, until it was sensitive enough to leave him with goosebumps, before doing the same with the other side and making Reynauld shake and quiver from sensations. He panted and breathed hotly as Dismas finally relented and moved down, down along his belly, lips rubbing against the hairs that lead to his navel.

It was almost funny how Dismas swallowed his cock down to the root with such little fanfare compared to the slow trail of loving kisses before it. But Reynauld did not laugh, he went breathless and voiceless as his back bowed off the bed, so suddenly struck by the pleasure that he forgot himself, only coming back when Dismas pulled off. The mischievous grin was earned, Reynauld supposed, panting and moaning hotly as Dismas just relaxed there at his hips, grinning with his cheeks burning red.

“Well now… someone’s sensitive…” Dismas purred.

“A-apologies.”

“No need to apologize holy-man, but if we want this to last a little longer, I just can’t go doing that again,” Dismas chuckled, shimming his way up to kiss him. He eagerly devoured the kiss, lifting himself up to deepen in and feeling Dismas smile against his mouth. When they parted for breath, Dismas was giving him a smouldering look that had his cock throbbing with pleasure. “But what shall we do with a sensitive holy-man…”

“I… don’t know…” Reynauld panted quietly.

“I do have an idea, if you’re up for it holy-man.”

“Oh?”

Dismas gently encouraged them on their sides, his front to Reynauld’s back. Reynauld looked over his shoulder to see Dismas reaching for a small jar on the bedside table, sticking his fingers in and coming out slick. He watched as the man used those slick fingers to slick up his cock, watching heatedly as those clever and slender fingers worked over the hard and aching flesh with rough grunts of pleasure, before shuffling forward.

“Wait… are you…”

“Just want to rut against this handsome arse of yours, holy-man,” Dismas rumbled against his ear, giving his cheek a reassuring kiss. “Trust me, if I was gonna fuck you, I’d open you up all proper and whatnot. Make sure I slide in nice and easy for your pleasure.”

The vivid image of Dismas fucking him made his cock twitch and a needy moan escape him, louder still when Dismas slid his slicked up cock between his ass cheeks and he felt the man’s hot and slippery cock rub against the ring of his ass. His body hummed and throbbed in pleasure as Dismas rocked against him, rubbing against him and making him groan and moan in pleasure. The still slippery hand taking his cock in hand was a surprise, as he felt like he could easily release from feeling Dismas rut against his ass, but one he still welcomed as he rocked his hips into that slippery fist. With the added bonus of rocking back harder against Dismas and feeling his cock grind harder against his ass.

They panted and moaned as they moved for a time. Dismas rutting against him, making sure to press tight so that Reynauld could feel that cock sliding against the ring of his ass, while also keeping his fist tight around Reynauld’s cock. It felt wonderful, it felt amazing, Reynauld’s entire body felt alight from all the wonderful sensations. The wonderful sounds of Dismas moaning in his ear and puffing hot moans against the sensitive shell, the feeling of a gun and knife calloused hand running up and down his chest, toying with sensitive spots as he saw fit, taking the time to tug on a nipple to make him buck harder.

“You good, Rey?” Dismas panted against his ear.

“Very,” Reynauld moaned out.

Teeth nibbled on his earlobe.

“Good,” Dismas growled out.

His orgasm surprised him, drawing a surprised and embarrassingly loud moan out of him as he spilled in Dismas’ hand, feeling his spine melt into hot syrup and every tightened up muscles suddenly letting go in the process. He jerked and spasmed against Dismas’ hand, the man blindly rutting against him for a moment before spilling himself, Reynauld feeling it against his skin and moaning weakly from the low burst of arousal that it caused him, before they stopped and stalled, and they sank in as the post orgasm bliss sank over them. Reynauld’s sensitive cock twitched as Dismas’ pulled his sullied hand away, dripping the last of his seed. Reynauld felt Dismas’ cock twitch as he dripped the last of his own pleasure between Reynauld’s cheeks, hot against his body.

Dismas kissed the corner of his jaw before moving away, Reynauld too breathless to call him back to bed. Just listening to Dismas move around before he came back and a damp cloth was rubbed against his body, gently and tenderly, along his ass and along his front and gently padding at the few spots of seed he had gotten on the sheets before moving away again. When he returned, Dismas pressed against his back, slinging an arm around his torso and pressing close and… cuddling.

They laid there, catching their breath and enjoying the bliss for a moment, before Reynauld spoke up.

“May I ask if… this is short term or long term?”

“What do you want it to be, holy-man?”

“... long term I… am quite infatuated with you, Dismas…”

“Good thing, then. I planned on this new religious outlook of mine to be quite the big commitment.”


End file.
